Murder
by Skylark Evanson
Summary: "Did you really do it?"


**A/N: This is what happens after looking at "Warriors" stuff past midnight. Urgh. Better yet, Kass wasn't telling me to sleep like she usually does. Sorry if it's a little spotty here and there. Slight problem in the beginning with… stuff… Oh, just read.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own it.**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Murder<span>**

"Did you really do it?"

He'd heard the same question more than once from numerous voices; this one was just overkill. Sure, that wasn't bad, the few times people had confronted him, people like Superman or Black Canary, but the topic was so grim that it left a foul taste in his mouth. Robin's glare was fierce beneath the mask. "Yeah, I did it. On accident." He didn't even glare at Wally who was the first to ask. He glared at his fists, the ones that had subconsciously made him a murderer. The fists that he'd used countless times to save lives that had finally ended one. One that deserved to be ended. "You wouldn't get it."

Wally gave a cringed once the truth was said. He rubbed one arm on his bicep to try and rub away goosebumps. His best friend. A murderer. Never in a million years would he have guessed Robin; Batman maybe, but never the Boy Wonder.

Why?

Well, he was Robin. Innocent eyes. Wild smile. Signature cackle. Video game extraordinaire. Hacking master. Ninja of the night. Robin. Boy Wonder. The "dynamic" in Dynamic Duo. Protege to the Dark Knight. A kid. Not a murderer.

"How was that an accident, Rob?" He didn't mean to pry. He didn't want to, really. It was just instinct. That, and everyone knew the story now. Everyone. Anyone who was anyone in the reporting business was all over this story. Especially since it'd been caught on film, a rare event for Gotham's crime fighting pair. "Everyone saw it! You let him fall!"

A furious hiss erupted and the laptop was thrown from it's place on his leg to the table where the screen cracked a little bit. "I didn't do it on purpose, okay?" Defensive words rang out. If the kid were willing to risk his position, he would've thrown a punch. His title was currently in jeopardy; the child couldn't risk losing his mask and cape. He wasn't sure he could live without them. They were what kept him off the brink of insanity sometimes, knowing that he could do good. "It was an accident."

"Everyone saw you."

"I didn't kill Tony Zucco!"

Never. Never had Wally seen his best friend so pissed. Not once. Not even when he did something wrong, a stupid mistake. Not even then. This was the first time he'd ever seen a pulsing vein in his friend's temple or a tendon stretching out of his neck or sapphire eyes blazing with fury behind nearly black shades. This didn't look like Robin.

Somehow, he looked like he could be a murderer.

The kid dropped backwards, sitting down on the coffee table after spinning to glare from bolting upright off the sofa. His elbows rested on his knees as his hands clutched at his locks of ebony. Tears stained his face with trails of faint silver. Robin's face was flushed red with rage. Red for rage. Scarlet. Crimson. Vermillion. All the same. Rage. "You know I wouldn't do that, Wally. It leaves a bad mark on Batman, makes me look like the bad guy. But I'm not, I swear. I hated him, but I would never have killed him."

Wally wished he could believe the little bird. He did. He wanted to put some faith in his best friend. Any faith. Something. Hope. Trust. Something real. Something that could be believed in. "Then why did you?"

"I didn't mean to, Wally." Dick was catching glimpses of two scenes that continued to overlap in his mind. The wires snapping. A final step. Two bodies falling. The flailing of arms as gravity played a role. Screams of two crowds. Horror filling the air. Screaming... So much screaming... Blood... Everywhere... But... Relief... Then sorrow. Mingling together like lost lovers. Sorrow. And relief. "I didn't mean to."

"I know he killed them, Rob, but-"

"And Gotham PD lets him out?" The words were spat, venom in his voice, anger lighting up his usually placid face. "He was terrorizing people the second he got out and was still capable of having his goons doing the job while he was in prison." Sapphire eyes were revealed as the sunglasses were whipped off. "He killed my parents, Wally. I hate him for that, but for every other kid he made like me, he deserves to die for them. It's not only my story that's being written by his bloody pen. It wasn't just them and it should've been me."

The ginger had nothing to say to this. What could he say? His best friend was a murderer. Cold blood. And he just said that he killed him. Or at least almost said it. Implied it, at least.

There was a sigh. "I know you don't get it. Why would you? Got the perfect family with perfect smiles and perfect houses and everything's fine and dandy." Dick ran a hand through his deep black hair. "But I've wanted that for my whole life. Yeah, I wanted Zucco dead. But no, I didn't kill him on purpose or with any malicious intent. He slipped and I let him fall. I saved him once before and he should've been smart enough to not fall a second time. He left his life in my hands and it was his problem, not mine."

"So you let him die."

"I didn't kill him, KF."

"No, you let him fall to his death."

"He slipped."

"And you didn't save him."

"Did he save my parents? No. So why do I need to save him a second time?"

"You know that the League won't tolerate this."

"Do you know how bad it is to watch someone die?"

The conversation hit a standstill. Wally spluttered for words as his eyes were suddenly locked onto the tear-streaked face of a broken Richard Grayson. Jade eyes bubbled with questions as the older boy winced at the thought of knowing the life was leaving someone.

"I have seen three people die in my life."

Wally knew who these people were. He'd found out Robin's secret identity a couple years ago and had done his little bit of research. Two people. Now another one. All three names laid heavy in his mind.

"John Grayson, my father." His eyes burned with moisture. "Mary Grayson, my mother." His voice cracked. "Tony Zucco, the man who murdered them." The boy looked tired, defeated, weak. "Do you know what it's like to watch your parents die over and over again every night in your sleep? What it feels like to hear a scream echoing in your ears every waking moment? Do you know how it feels to see the fear on a killers face when you finally get to watch him repent for his crimes?"

Terror darkened Wally's face.

"It feels good."

The ginger felt a little sick to his stomach.

"But now I hear three screams in my sleep. Two calling out for me in vain and one that knows it's going to die a cold painful death and is going to rot in Hell for all of eternity. I watch two scenes at once, everything overlapping, sounds of a cheering crowd, the background of sirens, spotlights versus police lights, cotton candy scents, sewer and smog smells. And the emotions of watching death." The young boy looked down again. His head was shaking. "You'll never have to live my life, Wally." One hand retrieved his laptop while the other put a pillow back into place. "Be grateful that you're not me."

"You wouldn't kill him."

"I didn't kill him."

"He fell."

"I let him fall."

"You didn't kill him."

"He killed himself."

"And you let Dick influence Robin."

"Dick's not going to save anyone. That's Robin's job."

"You let him die."

"I didn't save him."

"You didn't murder Tony Zucco."

"I'm not a murderer."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Wow, I get angsty in the middle of the night… As a sidenote: the "bloody pen" remark? Yeah, I didn't mean it in the cussing way. I meant it in the literal way. Thanks for reading and please leave a review with commentary/feedback/criticism!**

**~Sky**


End file.
